Omega
by Ovo
Summary: Odd happenings including shape changing, irratability, and prophetic demands are normal during... the full moon!
1. The Thawing of the Earth

**Omega**_  
The Thawing of the Earth_

The tundra was warming, right down to the permafrost. It had been thus for four generations, and winter fur was thinner every year.

Food was scarce; although there was occasional live prey, it was rarely worth the meal, and the pack had fallen to scavenging to survive. It was the lifeless ones that had become the dominance here, and the wolves had fallen back with the rest of tundra's inhabitants.

Regardless, springtime still meant new life, albeit rushed, and it was time again to move the pack's cubs to a safer den. The lifeless ones had their say first, and little ones had to be out of the way for life to continue.

The wolf trotted swiftly, head down, ears back, and all to classical, tail-between-legs fashion. They were here; the smell of death was everywhere.

Coming across another, the first wolf stopped. Old, elaborate greetings were ignored for the clipped versions. The future was in danger. The future _was_ danger.

The omega joined first wolf, but paused to howl the moon's lament. Echoing voices called from the surrounding fog, but that of first wolf was not among them. Her thoughts were for the cubs, and there was a threat older than the lifeless ones out tonight.

Something roared across the tundra with a brutal voice. The sound of scurrying legs was lost to the thunderous intrusion, and the omega recoiled from the sudden light out of nowhere. Shouting; human voices added to the mix. The lifeless ones were distracted by the old threat and the humans had come under the safety of the battle.

The wolf stared transfixed by the headlights, not moving until the danger was too close to avoid. There were reasons she was omega.

---

"Jesus; would the corporal cadre want this recruit to kiss her ass, as well?"

"Well, since y'a brought it up…"

"_Sierra_!"

"What? _I_ didn't say it."

Suddenly, the already cramped air duct seemed far too small for the both of them. Ryan tried to back off, but there was really nowhere to go.

"Would you just hurry?"

"You wanna to do this?"

"My arm wouldn't fit through there!"

"And y'think mine do?"

Sierra might have protested at her fellow cadet's breathing down her neck, had she not been enjoying it. If it weren't for the frustration at not being able to open the lattice leading into the labs, though, this would have been a lot more fun. She huffed and pulled her arm back through the grating; her arms were going to be chaffed for some time afterwards. Switching to her left hand, she attempted to twist at an inhuman angle, only to falter from the impossibility of it.

"We should'a brought Skitters," the woman sighed, flexing her fingers and wrists.

"His mother would kill us," Ryan stated plainly, squashing any plans of, _let's go get him!_ that were sure to follow. He had his own set of strict regulations when it came to dealing with out-of-commission marines or their sons.

"Nah, it'd be good for him," Sierra reached back through the grate as far as she could, reaching for the next little bolt that just so evaded her grasp. The last one. One flimsy little thing that they couldn't break because it'd be a noticeable change in the room and the detail-set alarms would go off. That the state-of-the-art alarms were fashioned in such a way that they only monitored normal activity was a convenience to more than only late-working lab hands and maintenance workers.

"Good for him or good for us?"

"Both," her eyes lit up, "Okay, then, what about Jane?"

"She wouldn't come; I think she's still in trauma over that anatomy thing."

"She'd have to; I'd make her," Sierra said with a strange mixture of scorn and matter-of-factness, "Remember, I own both your asses."

"Not on vacation, you don't."

"Speaking of a…. Hey, I got it!"

_Not one moment… not one **millisecond** too soon_,Ryan imagined as his companion struggled forward to push the rectangle of metal and mesh out of their way. It gave suddenly, and his heart skipped as she almost let it fall to the other side.

"Two problems," Sierra snapped, "This thing's heavy, and I'm slipping. And the floor's a bit farther away than we thought, so three problems. Four 'cause I don't think we can haul it back into the grate could you stop me from slipping thank you very much."

Amused, Ryan pinned her ankles to the metal sheet below them before they moved much farther, "Now what?" The reply was nothing more than a grunt, "I can let you down slow, or is the floor farther than that?"

"It… just let me down," nearly half of her was out of the vent already, anyway, "But slow!"

Chuckling, Ryan inched forward slowly until she dangled at his mercy. The screen clattered to the floor inside the labs, and he heard it slide roughly away.

"Okay, okay – let go."

"You sure?"

"Damnit, _yes_!"

He did as she said, and she slid from his view, landing heavily in a nightmarish somersault. Ryan followed a bit more cautiously as she recovered, keeping a distance from both her and the dirty look she aimed in his direction.

The brightly-lit room was half laboratory and half storeroom. The negligently left alone experiments might have raised health questions if this wasn't a routine expedition for adolescents around their neighborhood. Although safety was a relative thing – the soldiers that guarded the facility probably wouldn't have taken to kindly to finding denim-clad teenagers traipsing the grounds.

So, as to make the trip fast and painless, they spread apart the search. Aside the common sense ideal that the drug they were after wouldn't have been in with the trays of experiments, there was little clue to where it would be. Although they did have a marked advantage of having done this before.

Among the more obscure shelves, something scraped metal; a rapping to coincide with the ruffle of clothes and a soft screech of synthetic rubber on linoleum floors.

Packed away like any of the other boxes, crates, and aluminum cases was something different.

Sierra breezed over the labeled boxes with a fingertip, the exact serial number of the injection burned into her mind by repetitive thought over the months of its use.

On the floor, under the _EX_ serials was a massive crate like she'd never seen before; a bottle slung through evenly set bars caught her attention, and something moved under the shadow of the sheets of metal that encased the other five facets of the cage.

"Whoa…" Cold blue eyes stared out from a bristled silvery whitish… thing. A bushy tail moved aside to reveal the hateful grimace of the large, if emaciated dog-like creature. The transfixed teenager barely noticed as one of the most unusual things she'd ever seen shuffled to its feet before her and pressed against the back of its prison. She leaned closer to the bars, keeping balance on her toes by hands pressed to the top of the crate.

"That is so cool."

A low growl grew audible, and soon broke into a barrage of yelping snarls as the animal threw itself forward against the threat. Sierra fell back into Ryan, who'd appeared behind her moments earlier, and cursed several syllables. While the man helped her to her feet, she kept trying to inch backward. Trying to steady her nerves, she wiped the drool off her corduroy vest and the grubby used-to-be-white T-shirt beneath in a show of disgust.

"You all right?" the mulatto brushed that off, too, just for display.

"Just fine; it takes a little more than a dog to scare me."

"I think it's a wolf," Ryan's impending chuckle died as he noticed something that shouldn't have been.

"Yeah, whatever," Sierra grumbled, intent on wiping the non-existent dust from her pants until her friend urgently grabbed her arm, "Hey; what the hell, man?"

"I think we tripped the alarm," Ryan said simply, nodding to the blinking little, _stay where you are, there's a search in progress_, red light that scientists obeyed and thieves didn't.

They both stared vacantly for a moment before Sierra led the way in a dash back to the air vent. Ryan helped the woman hoist herself into the duct, before lifting the grate in a momentary, futile wonder if he could get it back on.

"Leave it, c'mon," Sierra snapped from above, prompting just that and attempting, under terrible leverage, to help the man pull himself up. Whether she was successful or not, Ryan managed to get back into the vent. Together they crawled an approximate ten feet before coming across a backpack they'd left earlier for an inconspicuous getaway once out of the building, where Sierra stopped.

"Wait, did you get it?"

"No."

"Well we gotta go get it, then," Sierra tried to turn around – a difficult maneuver considering the size of the vent and Ryan being immediately behind her.

"No!"

"We gotta!"

"_Sierra!_"

---

The wolf pressed against the limitation of her world in desperation before falling back to the shadows as more and more humans appeared outside.

So many of them… but… there had been a guardian among them! She had to find it; but would it listen to a lowly omega?

---

The apartment that greeted its wayward occupant home was not as quiet as one might have hoped. The living room seemed far livelier than it should have been at this time of night. Three adolescents, one of which was curled inward in a vain attempt at sleep, one of which didn't belong, and one of which _should_ have been sleeping lounged about an overstuffed sofa.

A television, no longer used for news or a majority of the entertainment mediums, displayed the last and only lasting of its former uses – a movie of enough caliber to keep the attentions of children. Low-volume explosions weren't loud enough to wake the household, but the hum was starting to get on Ryan's nerves as he stood in shock at the sight.

So he decided to clean up the situation difficult bit first.

"You," two bodies jumped at the suppressed, yet angry tone. He caught the eye of his addressee, who flinched but couldn't look away; at least not when running like hell seemed a viable outcome.

"Hey," the boy chirped, trying to sound as pleasant as possible. His worry manifested itself as he gripped the upholstery under his hand, "How'd it go?"

"Does your mother know you're here?"

"She should," a clever evasion, "I told her I was coming here."

"It's four AM; does she know?" but not clever enough.

"…Dunno? She shou-"

"Go home; _now_."

The boy rose nervously from his seat and tried to keep a calm, nonchalant demeanor that didn't quite work as he sulkily crept away.

One problem down, which left one, which _shouldn't_ have been so much trouble….

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

The girl stared at him with a fervor to match his, "No. I'm watching the movie."

"Well, I think she is," one space had cleared up a little, the last, thus far silent occupant of the furniture extended her legs a little in the now freer seating arrangement, "So can't you watch it tomorrow?"

"Then why can't she sleep in your room? Not like you use it, and the couch is for everybody, y'know."

Not one to argue with bratty little sisters at the odd hours of the morning, Ryan circumvented the couch and lifted the unresponsive girl and navy-blue blanket around her into his arms. With a sigh and a annoyed scowl at the remaining girl, he made his way across the apartment to the little place that was his.

"You didn't have to do that; I was fine," an educated accent, but hoarse voice. He looked down to dark eyes staring at him from his bundle of runaway and blanket.

"Yeah," he set her down gently, and she roused enough to stare at him properly, "But it would have pissed me off, honestly."

"Full moon pisses everyone off," she coughing slightly, but it was an unsuccessful in clearing her throat.

Ryan turned his head to look at the calendar on the wall, marked casually with such events.

"Not full moon yet," he grinned, but the girl only shrugged.

"Then I don't know what it is."

"I think it's that some people are naturally as annoying as hell."

And that, much to Ryan's delight, provoked a small smile.


	2. The Woman

**Omega**  
_The Woman_

There had always been a contrast in height between Sierra and Ryan. There was, perhaps, one day that no one remembered, when their height was matched – after Sierra had been taller, but before a growth spurt of Ryan's that set him in a permanent lead. The difference was something that drove the woman insane, but Ryan pretended not to notice.

To compensate, Sierra would occasionally draw herself up on her toes; but it was a futile, dying habit. Even now, she only did it when she wanted something.

"There's a bonfire up near the third junction tonight, you wanna go check it out?"

And Ryan was sorry he asked.

"Sounds illegal," he sidestepped the girl, intent on getting the last few steps home behind him. Dropping to her heels, Sierra followed doggedly.

"But it'll be fun!"

"What's my mother going to think if I keep staying out all night?" Really, it had been two days, and it didn't seem long enough.

"It's with me, remember?" the young man snickered, prompting severe retaliation. Unfortunately for her, Sierra couldn't come up with anything serious enough that wasn't of a physical nature, "Come on Ryan; don't I look like an angel to you?"

Thankful that he was home before he had to answer such an absurd question – he imagined Sierra as the devil in a shoddy disguise – and she was equally distracted in the presence of the woman in question.

"Ma'am."

With both Sierra and his mother distracted, Ryan seized the opportunity to whip a roll of hard candy at his little sister before leaving the scene with only a bottle of cough medicine from the bounty of groceries he'd returned home with.

---

The metallic white cold was not the same as the white cold of the territory.

This was definitely not the territory. Humans rarely came near the place, and they surely didn't dwell there.

The wolf cringed in the corner of the room. A semi-circle of confused scientists surrounded her, as though they could stop her from escaping. Maybe they could; humans were tricky creatures.

But, in their hearts, they were as fearful as she was.

A door cracked open across the room. It was a slim chance, but it was the only one she had.

---

There were no more dark nights, but there were still dark rooms, dark windows, and dark alleys.

Ryan still wanted to know how he'd been swindled into this.

Sierra insisted it was close by, but he spent his leisure sauntering along. He did it to spite her, really. She shouldn't have minded; they were friends after all.

There was something else buzzing at the back of his mind. It only seemed louder the further along the promenade they went. The world seemed to fade to blacks and dark grays. He had to stop, lest he get lost amidst the shadows.

In the darkness, a star appeared. White, almost silver became a focus point; he began to see form in the snowy abyss.

The woman, for it was a woman, met his stare with cold eyes – something he didn't take into account, as he was slightly distracted by other facets of the being. White hair matched a near-albino skin tone, which was mostly noticeable because she wore nothing else.

"What the hell?" Sierra wondered aloud. She was somewhere beside him, he knew, but for a moment she had been forgotten.

Suddenly, as though sound had broken through the mystique, the world snapped back into place – they were in a dark alley, same as before. Only, the woman was still there, crouched on her knees and staring at them with big, blue eyes.

Ignoring the warning glare from Sierra, Ryan stepped forward cautiously.

"Are you all right, miss?" The stranger grimaced, and the man couldn't figure out if she'd understood or not. He smiled, holding out a hand for goodwill's sake.

In an instant, the odd woman lunged. Ryan stumbled back, startled, even as Sierra got between them. She had the stranger on the ground before he could blink a third time. Soon after, the other seemed to have given up, her head turned at an odd angle and eyes closed tight. Sierra, not noticing, or not caring, huffed angrily, not ready to relent on potentially false confidence.

Ryan caught her fist as she drew it back; anyone wandering onto the scene now might have suspected Sierra, as helpless as the stranger looked. She yielded, only for him.

The woman crawled a short distance away, not swiftly, and when she looked back at them there was no horror, no hatred on her face… Ryan _felt_ an acceptance of the simple fact, almost as though she was used to this.

It scared him.

"Sierra, give me your vest," he spoke slowly, not to scare the stranger; if that were possible, so far he hadn't felt any external fear.

Sierra, not granted the same insights, stared at her friend. While she understood why he wanted it, two parts territoriality and rationalism mixed to form an all too analytic, if misplaced conclusion.

"Ry, this vest won't cover shit," to be met by that irritated look she was forced to stand if she wanted her own right.

"It's better than _nothing_, isn't it?"

Shrugging out of the sleeveless jacket, she handed it, crumpled, to Ryan, who approached the stranger for a second time.

---

Getting home was never such a nightmare. Somehow, the dread of being blamed for something they hadn't done was far worse than that of being blamed for something they could admit to, and they weren't even sure if they'd done anything wrong.

Momentary distraction arrived in the form of a boundary to be overcome. For a few minutes, they were able to replace the old problem with the new one.

"Son of a bitch," getting herself over the balcony railing was easy compared to hauling Ryan over after her; she doubted she could have done it if he hadn't worked to help himself, "Ryan, most yearlings _lose_ weight at the Academy."

"I did," not a defensive snap, the factual statement irked Sierra more than having to haul her best friend off the alleyway to get him home.

"Like…" the syllabic was cut short as Ryan muffled the woman with a hand.

"You feel like we're being watched?" The mere suggestion caused them both to look around, and Sierra looked up while Ryan peered over the balcony, "Oh."

Having flanked Sierra most of the way, the strange woman clutched at the vest as though it were a security blanket – Ryan hadn't been able to get it on her after all – as she gazed up at them with the pathetic eyes of a lost puppy. It took some effort to get her the ten feet up to the balcony porch; she was light, but she struggled. On the tedious trip up, past many neighbors' porches, it became obvious that the girl didn't like heights.

Home never looked so good. The window perpendicular off the balcony was open for specific reasons – it wasn't much of a view to the other side of the alley, but it was Ryan's room, after all.

"Get her started on a bath or something; I'll go find some clothes."

Sierra, concentrating instead on the three foot by two transverse over and up through the window, barely seized the opportunity to complain.

"Wait a second – why do _I_ have to help her bathe?"

"I didn't say you had to help her, just make sure she gets clean."

"_Why_?"

The stranger stared back and forth, wide-eyed as the hushed argument ran its course.

"She's covered in dirt, is why," as though that didn't make enough sense, "And I'm not putting her in clean clothes if the clean isn't going to help."

"Well… can't we just wrap her in a blanket, or something?"

"Please, Sierra?" While they both begged one another the opposite, there was an endearment quality Sierra never could kick. She yielded to it, even as she vowed revenge. Without the instilled power of the cadet body to back her, she finally realized it was going to be a long summer.

"You are so dead when we get back, you know that?"

"Thanks Sierra," even as he escaped, she regretted it.

Ryan, meanwhile, soberly went about his side of the task. He had considered asking one of the neighbors, until he found Jane leaning over the counter and into the kitchen sink. Despite her memorable fall into his care, he'd forgotten she even existed.

"Hey," the girl lifted her head from the basin, paying respect as he tapped a cupboard above the counter lightly, "We do have glasses, you know?"

A muffled _mmph_ was her reply as she returned to drinking from the faucet.

"What are you doing up?" Months earlier, Ryan had resolved that, if all babysitting was thus – to keep a loose on watch on the a who had proven more than able to care for herself – he might have taken it up as a spare job years ago.

"It's four-thirty," his fellow yearling replied around the water, as though accused of under sleeping by an over sleeper.

"Some way to enjoy your summer, kiddo." She shrugged, and he recalled she wasn't interested in the break to begin with… something he still hoped to change even as the reprieve ticked away, "Feeling better?"

"A little," she turned off the water to face him, and he had to admit that she did look better, at least… a great deal so.

"That's good," Ryan smiled, trying to pluck up the courage for his suddenly remembered initial purpose of his house-wandering, "I suppose you'd mind if I were to borrow some of your clothes for a few hours or so…"

"What for?" Jane blinked at him, perplexed by the request.

"It's a long story, but-"

A sudden yell resounded through the apartment, drawing the attention away from Ryan's explanation. He led the way as they moved to investigate, with Sierra as his prime suspect.

He found her, shaken and leaning heavy against the closed bathroom door. She grit her teeth as her fellows approached, an unusual grimace – or smile – flickering before she sought to let them in on the problem.

"Hey," she focused on Ryan, a confidante to the secret behind the door, "This look familiar t'ya, at all?"

She twisted the handle, opening the door without turning around. Instead, she watched for the man's reaction as he saw her little surprise.

A white canid, tense to a breaking point, yet sopping wet, growled menacingly, ready to make a last stand between them and the bathtub.


	3. The Wolf

**Omega**  
_The Wolf_

The wolf stared. Ryan stared. The world seemed to sway, and Sierra slammed the door in slow motion.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the sergeant-elect took a moment to rub the back of her hand into her eyes – the sudden belief that she had been awake far too long playing into her reasoning.

Ryan, for his moment, couldn't quite get his mind to work. He registered time passing, he breathed, he even blinked once or twice, but higher reasoning just wasn't an option. The mental block was the simple perception that there was a wolf in his bathroom.

Jane, on the other hand, peered around his elbow with all the courage it took for a girl to confront her worst fear, and passed it by with a stolid bravado.

"What's with the dog?"

"It's a wolf," the canine in question voiced its existence to the world with a series of redundant yelps and short howls. In return, Sierra smacked the door, a motion that ended the yipping, before putting forth an answer to the question, "And it's none of your business, shrimp."

Jane shrugged, but by the sound Ryan had recovered enough to echo her previous statement, though amended,

"What's with the wolf?"

Sierra glared, and under drill that might have been something to fear. But, as it were, she was merely his neighbor and friend. On the other hand, Jane was little of the sort.

"Get lost, kid," and accordingly, the corporal seemed less enthusiastic to bring any such thing about. In the same vein, Jane took things as granted and never complained, even in situations for which Ryan imagined exceptionable.

Regardless, she left without a word. And he had slightly more important things to worry about.

"What happened?" Perhaps they had been thinking on a level, or maybe Sierra simply had some other consideration that demanded her attention, but the question snapped her back to vigilance.

"I turned around to find a pissed off wolf in your tub."

"What about the woman?"

"Like I said, when I turned around…" Sierra let it rest for, as if that weren't disturbing enough, "It's the same wolf, y'know."

"I think it likes you."

"Well I don't like it!"

"_Shh_," Ryan hissed, ever aware that the whole household was, most likely, awake by now. Sierra rolled her eyes, peeling off the door and headed for the window. It took a moment for the youth to realize it as such, "Where you going?"

"Home," acrimonious, Sierra clambered out onto the nearby balcony with less-than-_her_-usual grace, "I've had enough for one day."

Ryan followed her to the exit, for lack of knowing better.

"What about the wolf?"

"Call the Animal Sanction," Sierra suggested, before finding a reason to turn around, "Oh, and I want that vest back later."

Considering any more of the conversation would have had to be yelled across the ever-increasing distance, Ryan ducked back inside to deal with things as they had unfolded.

---

As it was, his mother had, indeed, woken to the commotion. It was a problem – how to go about ensuring that she did not, and hopefully never would, discover the big bad wolf hiding under the sink. Reprieve came about by his foundling angel.

"…And they got to roughhousing in the tub," Jane explained, deadpan as he found her standing between his kin and that accursed door, "It's a mess and I think they broke something."

He could have hoped for better, but beggars did not exist to choose. Instead, he thanked providence that Jane was there – he knew he picked her up for a reason.

Although that didn't stop him from blushing when his mothered turned to him to assess the truth of the case.

And, after all was said and after his family were convinced away from that particular room until he had cleaned it thoroughly, it didn't stop him from praising her tact and deception.

"You're wonderful," he insisted. He would have done better, but under the circumstances it had to do. Especially when she reminded him about the issue at hand.

"You still have a wolf to deal with," Ryan was at once surprised that she didn't ask and, yet, that he would assume her to do so. Even so, he was grateful for the time it saved.

"Yeah, well…" he considered this.

"I'll clean up if you take care of the… guest."

Ryan grimaced, "I would, but, it isn't exactly tame."

Impassive, his fellow yearling merely stared, "Then what were you planning to do?"

There was no good answer for that, short of explaining, in detail, why there should not have been a wolf at all. Not something he wanted to do per moment, so he set about finding a way to move the creature without bodily harm.

He hoped a towel would suffice.

On second, Jane handed him a belt, along with a bit of silent empathy.

"What's this?"

"For a muzzle," as though the reason was self-evident, "You said it wasn't tame."

"Experience?"

"Common sense."

Ryan couldn't argue with that, so he simply got to work. With a quick back-left-right glance, he ensured no one else had wandered by before venturing to open the door.

It was easier than he expected, staring down the wolf. It made him feel bad about the muzzle aspect, but he wasn't in the mind to take more risk than necessary. Long minutes later, he had the creature somewhat securely hidden in his bedroom closet, and he spent the time Jane bought for him to try to look up anything that would help – from wolves to facility this one had come from.

Unfortunately, hours and hours of no sleep, and the recent days of little to no sleep, was not a good foundation for research.

_Maybe Sierra was right_. Maybe he should have just called on the Animal Sanction to take care of it, but that seemed to easy for what he wanted to know….

---

Hours later, as it seemed, Ryan dreamt of a splitting headache. When waking didn't cure it, he pretended it didn't exist.

Jane had taken up seeking where he left off, although, never having asked, she was far less knowledgeable towards what she needed to find. Instead, she had scanned over information from press articles to the general database for anything remotely useful.

"You should probably feed it," so her first words after were, as often, based upon common reasoning.

Ryan empathized. It was early evening – he was hungry, and he knew the last time he had eaten. The same knowledge wasn't in his mind with regards to the wolf, but he knew how long it had been since he'd found it, which gave him a starting guess.

All the same.

"I don't exactly have a lot of dog food."

"If it's hungry enough, it'll probably eat shoelaces."

"I want to keep my shoelaces," Ryan smirked, "You?"

Jane shrugged, though not expressly defensive over her property, "It's your pet."

"Yeah, remind me," Ryan sighed, moving to check on the errant wolf.

He was less surprised than he could have been, yet more surprised than he should have been, to find that the wolf had vanished, now replaced by a woman that was becoming all-to-familiar. She stared up at him, blue eyes rueful as she offered him the belt back.

"Where the hell did you come from?" he asked, exhausted from the effort of trying to think it through. There was a wolf in a cage, then a woman in the street, replaced by a wolf in his bathtub, and now, same woman as mentioned in his closet where the wolf should have been.

Actually, one theory did make sense… hypothetically. In a movie with car chases and explosions and such, it was common enough, but in reality?

"Jane, is it the full moon yet?"

"Yesterday, 'til tomorrow."

"Ah," Ryan replied, hoping that explained everything in one of two ways – either he had a werewolf in his closet, or he'd gone lunar. He cast a glance over his shoulder, to where Jane sat at his desk, though to a similar curve, staring past him and at the closet's newest resident.

Ryan passed if off, imagining that she hadn't come to the same conclusion he had – something he was glad of.

"Hey, you know those clothes I wanted to borrow…?"

"Go for it," the girl said, taking the suggestion lightly, "But you have to get her off them first."

The deep navy bag that held – quite literally – everything Jane owned in the world happened to be situated under the strange lady. Ryan cursed.

"All right, miss," not that it worked the last time. He doubted she could even understand him, but he could still hope, "You can come on out, now… we aren't gonna hurt you, see?"

She seemed passive enough, until he gently tried to pull her out of the recess. It was then that things got hazy.

The woman struggled, falling into vain whimpers; the world evaporated into concepts –_ young, food, hurt, home_ – as well as some very distinct images. All of this faded into distinct thought as she slipped from Ryan's hands.

_No hurt! Is good; is good!_

The shrieking cut through his mind; the sudden absence thereof kept him off balance even after it faded into oblivion.

"What…?"

Breathless, speechless, he stared down, to the stranger at his feet. She had stopped writhing, but still covered her face with her arms.

_Want go home!_

Not a scream, but a plaintive whimper, it forced the question, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

As it appeared, he was in on something that Jane wasn't.

Despite the realization, his voice went forth without him, and he asked what he dared to know,

"Where's home?"

The young man didn't know what he expected; truth told, he expected little, and felt quite asinine asking.

Yet came another flood of imagery and feeling: cold, dry, shallow puddles, mud, dead grasses, bloody lupines, signs, shadows, death….

_Stop!_ And it did; the stranger cringed at the command he didn't notice he having given as he dwelled on the one thing out of place.

A sign, written in a lettering he was unfamiliar with, and couldn't begin to interpret, stood out in his mind.

So he wrote it down.

"Cyrillic?" Jane ventured. Ever tranquil through the whole ordeal, she was starting to make Ryan suspicious.

"You know it?"

"No, but I recognize it."

A moment's silence, before Ryan came clean about what he suspected to be its source. She stared at him with that same serene doe stare.

"And you aren't bothered by _any_ of this?" he finally demanded, exasperated. In return, Jane smirked.

"I choose not to be," she shrugged, letting it be.

"Whatever," Ryan sighed, giving up, "Look, think you can translate it?"

"Yeah; probably won't even take too long," she said, taking the piece of writing and setting to work. In the meanwhile, he settled onto the bed, glancing to the stranger. She still hadn't moved. Despite any chance of these odd happenings being discovered by any common caller, he wasn't about to try moving her again after all that.

He admitted to himself – she did have a certain charm… even if it were just the mystery clouding his judgment.

_Home_…

It was so simple a word-thought-concept, and so instantly swallowed by obscurity, that nearly slipped him by. It could have been a minutes' old memory and he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

Even so, what was a distinguished man to do?

_Hang on, demoiselle; we're on it._


	4. The Gift

**Omega**  
_The Gift_

In a less 'enlightened' age, as some determined it, Sierra might have been worshipped by administrators and sales staff as a model for their cosmetics. She could have been a nameless draw for girls and agemates to mimic from a single magazine page, or a scale for males to judge their potential others, given that whatever natural draw she had was borne not of Basic or the Academy's training.

But that was a path not trodden; especially in a world where even the best cosmetics came in dingy little bottles and tins, and Sierra herself was, in all likelihood, the forerunning consumer of such products.

She had left Ryan to deal with his new problem, and planned to stay away until she could safely assume it had gone. Social as she was, there were few enough people in the vicinity that she cared to mingle with. Ian was gone, and most everyone else she might have chosen lived in other cities during the summer days.

Instead of bothering, she fell into a routine as ingrained as physical training had since become.

She dyed her hair.

As she reclined, combing the light color even whilst it dried, her mother brought to her attention that which she had missed.

"Ryan called."

The simple statement, though Sierra blinked it off, was enough to get her attention, "He say what for?"

"No, but he said it wasn't important and could wait."

Sierra could have snickered in glee. To call instead of simply waltz over meant _something_ was up. Even if it only had to do with that damn woman… dog… incident.

"Thanks mam."

---

  
Ryan had left her to cover for him. Not that he needed it, but he made her feel as though usefulness was growing back into her everyday life. Which, she presumed, was his intention. 

While she waited on the inevitable, she resided in the doorway – in the shadows and all but forgotten. It would become a useful skill later in life, but for now she thought nothing of it. Instead, she waited, occupied with the task at hand.

Ryan's youngest sister was, again, watching a movie, though this video was different than the one nights' prior. She paid it little attention, save to wonder what she missed that gave her friend the lead to draw _werewolf_ into their predicament.

It fit, she supposed.

Eyes conveniently fixed elsewhere in the opposing room, she saw the flash of the com. before she heard it chime. She held her breath, feigning distraction to the television as Ryan's mother obeyed the summons.

Listening surreptitiously, Jane confirmed her suspicions. Which meant she would have to talk to Sierra.

Biting down an involuntary grimace at the thought, she waited for the polite conversation to arrive at its concise end before moving operation to Ryan's now abandoned bedroom.

While she prepared the system, she estimated just what Sierra's reaction would be. She found, to her pleasant surprised, that she had underestimated by quite a distance.

"You…?" caught completely off guard, Sierra didn't quite recover appropriately, "What the hell do you want?"

The tinny – yet accurate – voice substitution made it all the less intimidating. Jane might have given to the temptation to laugh if she hadn't known how it would effect her future. Instead, she stuck to the concern at hand.

"Ryan told me to let you know the truth if you called," Jane paused, waiting for affirmation. The holo-Sierra stared back at her with less than genuine patience.

"Why? Where is _he_?"

"If all went well?" the girl followed up the rhetoric without pause, "On his way to Moscow."

Sierra shook her head, as though she hadn't heard clearly, but her tone failed to dissuade to such deception, "On his way _where?_"

---

  
She had taken the transformation well that evening. The moonset and following moonrise had been relatively painless compared to the last set. 

The immeasurable communication was pleasant, if confusing. She was unsure of what she had done to deserve such lavish attention, but she must have done good. She was determined to figure out what, so she could do so more often.

Meanwhile, she enjoyed it as it came, until a sudden backlash set her on regression.

---

  
Communication through concept, rather than word, was far different from other such communication along similar lines. Likened to how one requires practice to speak fluently, spontaneously interpret the written word, or read the tics of another's sinew, telepathy required use to function. 

Newly introduced to the medium, Ryan was having a hard time stringing the concepts to their proper lingual connections.

She, on the other hand, was comfortable with the medium; at the same time, she respected his clumsiness without ego. So, In response to his confusion, rather than question, the woman merely emphasized. It was a question, of sorts, with a reminiscent facsimile to clarify the concept.

_Alpha_.

The bulk of that particular concept was far beyond him, but a part of the base concept swept it away before he could even consider it. She was asking about Sierra, something he wasn't interested in discussing. Before he knew what he had done, he pushed her away.

The woman shuddered visibly, meekly looking down at her feet and refusing to 'speak.'

Ryan was struck by guilt. It wasn't her fault; he was the one who didn't know what he was doing.

He had no way of dancing her subconscious as she did his.

_I'm sorry. I'm not used to this; I can't usually talk to people like this_.

Silence. He wasn't sure if he'd even reached her. He averted his gaze, politely, to look out the window at the fast-approaching city. The thought came back, thick with significance.

_…I can't talk to people at all_.

---

  
Some time later, Sierra had arrived in Moscow. The long flight had calmed her down enough that she retained a semblance of a composed being, as opposed to when she had left. Unfortunately, this only meant that, once she finally found Ryan, her smoking of him would be done in a calm and collected manner. 

She had informed the Moscow Military of her urgency in the matter, but they had better to do than scour the city for a missing recruit. Still, they were nice enough to 'keep a lookout,' as well as to provide her a lingual expert to further the search; she promptly scared the poor individual by using her personal brand of the English language.

It proved relatively unnecessary – Sierra saw what she wanted four steps out of the station.

"Ryan!"

On the platform below, a flash of silver in the crowd betrayed the presence of the woman. With her, and only slightly less conspicuous was Ryan. Confused and foreign – they stood out separately, let alone side-by-side.

However, as circumstance favored, they disappeared under her level, leaving her quite miffed.

"_Hey!_"

---

  
Unlike most everyone the transport, the people going about their business on the promenade were thinking out loud, as Ryan had begun terming it. It was very distracting. 

_You live somewhere near here?_

No answer. The girl had been withdrawn. Not beset by the fearfulness of before, now she seemed to be concentrating on something he couldn't see; all he felt was _hope_.

She ran.

He hadn't expected that… but he hadn't expected to be in Moscow tonight, either. Instead of considering the little details, he took off after her.

Before the end, he lost tract of how far they had gone. She pushed past people – civilians, soldiers, children; he followed in her wake. She reached the edge of the city, past the barrier – and beyond – picking her way down the scaffolding that held them so far above the world.

Ryan knew better, but he wasn't about to simply leave her out there. He was perfectly willing to drag her, with she kicking and screaming, back to the safe confines of the city. His obstacle being that he had to catch her first, but she was fleet.

How far he chased – a mile, or farther. The only lapse came at moonset, when she stumbled, and he paused in shock to watch.

In all the times prior, he had not seen the change. White fur sprouted from her skin, and he was close enough to see how her borrowed clothes tore as body distended and shrank, all the while settling into a form that, on retrospect, seemed more fitting.

Yet, the metamorphosis was no less than half finished when she staggered to her feet and continued on at a slighter pace.

The air seemed to carry urgency – fear and apprehension. Ryan knew it was more than just he. He kept on, winded but determined. She had stopped, fallen more like, only so far ahead of him… before a mound of earth, something that held little meaning to him.

Something was wrong.

His skin crawled, something he barely noticed at the mental outburst that sent him down – a cry of pure anguish to match the glottal, half-wolf wail that so assaulted his ears from beyond the darkness.

---

  
"Hey there… That was a close one, wouldn't you say?" 

_Fear, pain, hurt!_

"Of course not," the voice purred, strangely disjoined from the throat that produced it, "That's all a thing of the past. Trust me."

_Trust_…

"That's a good pup… How about I do you a favor?"

---

  
Ryan felt sick. 

It wasn't enough to be, essentially, deported out of Moscow, but he had to suffer two weeks confinement in New York's lovely quarantine center. Which meant he had a lot of time to think.

A punishment that Sierra lent her hand to, he was sure. Or, at the very least, she wasn't doing anything to help him, which could have been taken in one of two ways….

When she finally found the time to visit, he couldn't bring himself to ask what had happened after his black out. Despite this, she said enough for him to figure out.

"Well, that was a brilliant idea," she appraised from the other side of the glass wall, "Have a nice little trip to Russia; take a little stroll outside the city – check out the scenery, maybe – and die with a pack of dogs."

"Oh, and by the way; you're welcome for my saving your ass," she spat at his continued silence.

"Appreciated," he smiled grimly, "But maybe you should being a bit earlier, next time."

"Maybe _next time_ I shouldn't come at all."

Either she was angry because he inconvenienced her or she was angry because he worried her. He guessed it was a little of both.

_I'm sorry._

---

  
It was a dream. Whose dream, he couldn't be sure, but it was a dream…. 

Present was a certain creature – not human, but neither a wolf. Or maybe that wasn't quite true; maybe it was both wolf and human, with the exceptional quality to change, ever so briefly, to sample the other world.

This being a dream, it seemed not that far fetched.

He broke the reticence, as it seemed perfectly natural to do so.

"You know, I never got your name."

It seemed silly, so she laughed, for once free of caste – and glad of it.

Still, the only answer she had, ingrained from one short lifetime's struggle, rang with the silver of her voice.

"Omega."

**_The End_**

**Working Title**: _Omega_

**Inspiration**: _An American Werewolf in London_. In particular, the scene with the nude fellow hunting deer all canid-like.

**Noteworthy**: First appearance: Ryan's latent receptive telepathy. Except here it works both ways.

**Disambiguation**: This works on _Penumbra_ physics, and even _Penumbra_ history. But I took it out of the backstory because it didn't fit perfectly to my liking. (You can consider it as such if you like, I'm not gonna stop you.)  
_  
Derivative work of material © Square Pictures, Squaresoft. Reformatted to abide by 'site standards. None of the original text has been modified, 'cept in case of typo._


End file.
